


On the Other Side

by Megane



Category: Monsterkind (Webcomic)
Genre: Acceptance, Coffee, Comedy, Developing Relationship, Friendship, M/M, Monsters, Nervousness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wallace wants to make the best of a bad situation. He wants to help others, even if they often refuse him. Today was one of his better days and brought him closer to understanding someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh, this one is gonna be fun to write (and hopefully short). The first chapter takes place early in their relationship. This won't be a slow burn, but I'll try to smooth the transitions from now until the end.

On a far too bright and way too sunny morning, Wallace was getting dressed for a very important meeting. One of his clients offered to meet with him, and he was excited! Er, for the most part. What made him nervous was that the meeting location wasn't at his client's home or place of business. He asked around, and it was a very nice bakeshop. “Nice clean windows,” Ben had said. Which meant it was probably easy to see in and out. Public – Wallace liked that, but since this was still unfamiliar territory for him, he was a little anxious to go. He smoothed his hands over his vest and took in a deep breath. It would be fine, he thought to himself. He just had to keep a positive (or at least, friendly) attitude, and everything would be _fine_. He stared at his own reflection and flashed his best smi— Okay, he wouldn't give his best smile. He groaned and placed his hand on the mirror, hiding his face as he walked away.

Papers, messenger bag, phone, money, keys. Looks like he had everything. Wallace fiddled with his bag, making sure this and that pocket was secured. He knew he was just buying time for himself, trying to work out his unease. He had plenty of time to spare, but it wouldn't do any good to waste it all diddling his pockets. With one last nervous heave, Wallace gathered up his senses and marched to his front door. He opened it and almost jumped out of his skin, seeing Ben waiting on the other side.

     “I'm not that scary, am I?” Ben asked dryly, fingers curled in a lazy fist.

    Wallace figured he was about to knock when the door opened. The social worker shook his head. “No, no. It's not you. I'm just a bit on edge today.”

    “Every day,” Ben teased with a little smile on his face. “Can't blame you, being the only human in this place.”

    Wallace returned the smile, tapping his fingers against the doorknob. “It's not that. I'm heading out to a meeting.”

    “Molly said something about that. She said you were heading across town, wanted me to check in on you before you left.”

Hearing that put Wallace at ease. Having a reminder that someone was looking out for him was helpful; it grounded him. He exhaled out his nose again and felt _actually_ calm. He met Ben's gaze, and the landlord nodded in understanding.

    “Figured you'd like that. Feel better?”

    “Much. Thanks, Ben. I'll be sure to thank Molly later too.”

Ben stepped out of the way as Wallace walked out. He watched as the human locked up his front door before finally asking.

    “Where are you headed anyway?”

    “Oh, uh.” Wallace tilted his head, trying to remember. “Taste Haven or something like that?” He furrowed his brows and looked to Ben for confirmation.

    “Ah,” the landlord replied, slowly nodding his head. “I know the place. If you're taking the bus, take the 34. It'll be by in a few minutes.”

    “Thanks, Ben!”

    “No problem.”  
  
Wallace turned and began to walk away when he remembered another question. He looked back towards the monster with an apologetic smile. Ben lifted his brows, awaiting the question.

    “Know any good place to eat down there? Something cheap but good? I-If you don't, I can just–”

    “Go to Percy Eight Eyes. Nice little joint, if you don't mind the smoke.”

    “I'll manage. Thanks again!”

Wallace adjusted the bag on his side as he exited out of the building to catch the bus. He wouldn't get used to the staring or the barely masked whispers of the other passengers. He understood their position. He was a human in _their_ domain. He wasn't offended by their suspicious stares or even their concerned glances. He just tried to make himself seem as small and harmless possible.

Still, it was the longest twenty-five minutes of his life.

When he finally got off the bus, Wallace felt anxiousness threatened the calm he had achieved. He rubbed his hands together, remembered he had friends that knew where he was going, and told himself that “It would be okay.”

Imagine his relief when it actually was.

The client he met with, Maro Kasney, was a delight. The bakeshop was well lit and was pretty occupied when he arrived. As expected, he received some strange looks from the patrons, but Maro spotted him and called out for him to join them at the booth.

    “Oh, Mistah Foster,” they began with a drawl. “I am _terribly_ sorry for this. I was in town yesterday, and I thought to myself – you know what I thought? I thought, 'Maro. You know full well that your house is in no condition to entertain no Mistah Foster. Why don't you invite him to this here bakery and talk to this man?'”

    “Well, I'm glad you did,” Wallace replied, smiling wide.

    Maro adjusted the furred collar of their jacket with two, taloned hands. Two other hands laced together and rested against the table. Maro flashed a lovely (but sharp) smile. “Now what can I do for you here?”

They talked about Maro's situation: how they had a hard time keeping a long term job, their debt situation, and overall wellness. Despite the smiles and charming bravado, the multi-armed monster had a fair share of problems. _Who didn't?_ Wallace mused to himself, taking back a paper Maro had signed.

When the paperwork was finished and they had scheduled to meet again in two weeks time, Maro _insisted_ on buying Wallace something.

    “Oh no you don't!” They began, holding him by the wrist and nodding for him to sit down. “Lemme thank you for meeting me all the way out here. I'm sure it's out of your way.”

    “It's fine, really.” Wallace laughed gently but didn't try to move again. “I was going to get something to eat nearby.”

    “I _insist_ , Mistah Foster. I really do. Just a little something won't ruin your appetite.”

Wallace turned his head to the right, observing the neatly organised display shelves. Well, maybe a _small_ treat would be fine. He said as much to Maro who smacked the table in delight. For the second time, Wallace felt his skeleton try to jump out of his skin. He and Maro headed to the front counter, where Wallace picked his… reward? Was it appropriate to call it that? He motioned a hand to a pink frosted twisted dessert, and Maro chose a slice of cake. Maro's top hands cupped their neck as they ordered a drink.

    “You know I love your tea, Meredith. I swear I do!”

Wallace watched Maro for a couple of moments before laughing. His smile widened when he felt a playful smack against his arm.

    “What's so funny?”

    “Nothing, nothing,” Wallace replied. “You just have a really vivacious personality.”

    “Well, that's me,” Maro stated warmly, shoulders shimmying and brows raising slightly. “I put the 'light' in 'delightful', Mistah Foster. I swear I do.”

    He nodded his head. “I don't doubt it.”

When their food came, Maro paid, but Wallace left some money in the tip jar. The meal might have been free, but the service wasn't. He gave a slight wave to the cashier and followed Maro back to the table.

    “You be careful out there,” they said to him, voice low but kind as they set their drink and dessert down on the table. “I know not everyone out there is kind to humans, and you can't blame them for that.”

    “I don't,” Wallace stated, one handing holding his bag strap, the other clutching his bagged food.

    “But you don't let these folks out here tell you what's what. You're a good man, Mistah Foster, and I reckon you're the nicest human they're ever gonna meet. You keep doin' your job and keep bein' yourself. You hear me?”

    Wallace smiled and nodded again. “Yes, I do.”

    “Alright.” Maro returned the smile before fanning a hand towards the door. “Now you get. Don't let me keep you any.”

    “I'll see you in two weeks,” Wallace said, heading towards the door.

    “Will do.”

He was tempted to eat his… whatever this was as soon as he walked out the door, but he decided it would be better to wait. He pulled out his phone to find 'Percy Eight Eyes' and was glad to know that it was just down the street. The building's facade was a faded brownstone. A black ornate sign with the shop's name hung over the doorway; 'Percy Eight Eyes' was written in a white dated style of calligraphy. A black and white sticker sign was plastered on the window saying “WIFI Inside”.

Wallace was met with a very soft, soothing jazz as soon as he pushed open the front doors. The interior was rustic with some choice decorations along the walls and between some of the booths. Wallace took in the sight, walking slowly as he headed towards the front counter.

    “Welcome to Percy Eight Eyes,” greeted a heavy set employee. Wallace brought his attention back and complimented the décor. He was no expert, but this place was decorated beautiful. After he paid, the employee handed over a wire sign with a number on it. “Pick anywhere you'd like!” Wallace nodded his head, turned around, and saw a familiar blue face.

Kip was sitting with two books stacked to his left, one open to his right, and a spiral notebook set right in front of him. He looked preoccupied, scribbling fiercely over a blank page. Wallace was hesitant to approach but justified it as both of them needing a break.

    “Hey, Kip,” he greeted. He wouldn't deny the tension in his shoulders when the bespectacled activist glared up at him.

    Kip sighed heavily, moving a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Wallace.”

    That was a greeting. In a way. Wallace motioned to the seat across from Kip. “Mind if I sit?”

Kip lowered his hand, staring at the empty space in heavy silence. There was a tired squint in his eyes, but he closed them as he set his pen down and agreed. Wallace smiled and pulled off his bag, taking his place across from his neighbour. He refrained from asking what Kip was working on, even though it was the first thing on his mind.

    “How long've you been here?”

    Kip checked his phone and sighed again once he placed it face down. “Three hours, apparently.”

    “Hungry? I could get something,” Wallace offered.

    “I don't need your–” Kip began, voice thick with irritation. He met Wallace's gaze and instantly deflated. He waved a hand. “I'll just, ah. Have something to drink.”

    “My treat since I'm, you know, invading your space.”

    “Sure, sure.”

It was weird trying to get to know Kip. Molly and Roy both assured that he “really was a nice guy under that tough exterior”. Wallace believed him, but at the same time, Kip was a bit, well, cold. If his personality were ice, it'd be like facing a tundra: cold and distant. Maybe there was warmth to be found. Wallace wasn't sure at first.

It was better than when they first met or whenever they were alone together: walking into the complex, getting coffee at Cuddy's Café, and even checking the mail were awkward. Things hadn't improved too much since then, but at least they weren't _super awkward._ Wallace had also graduated from a silent, halfhearted wave to an actual verbal greeting whenever they saw each other. It was slow, but it was progress.

Now they were here, sharing a table in a _really_ upscale sandwich shop. Wallace silently watched as Kip stacked his things out of the way. He hooked his pen into the spirals of his notepad before flipping it closed and placing it atop the books.

     “What're you doing here?” Kip asked. “This doesn't seem to be your side of town.”

    “Oh, uh. I had a client meet me here. Or rather, a client wanted me to meet them here – in this area.”

    “Hm.” Kip leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

Another silence. Wallace could almost feel the vast, metaphorical distance between them. He drummed his fingers over his knees and turned his head to the left, looking around at the shop's interior from a different angle.

    “How come you're still here?” Kip asked. His tone just barely veiled any wariness.

    “Huh?” Wallace turned his head.

    “No human would be this dedicated to their job, especially after being shafted into 'the worst district'.”

    Wallace lowered his head, staring at the table. “Well,” he sighed. “You're not wrong.”

    “So you admit, this looks suspicious. Everyone you come in contact with is going to think you're up to something, especially the tenants in the apartment complex. Until there's some sort of–” Kip opened out his hands in an arch, “– public overture of good will. No one's going to believe that you're Mr. Good Guy.”

    Wallace was quiet for a moment before frowning and lifting his head up. “I don't believe that. Not entirely. Sure, everyone's going to be suspicious of me at first, even if they do their best not to, but I don't believe that _everyone's_ going to hate me.” He placed his hands on the table. “I can live with the majority, but siding with the maximum shuts down any good that can be done here.”

    “You really think so?”

    Wallace held Kip's gaze, unwavering. “I know so. I know that I won't be able to change everyone's mind, and I don't want them to trust all humans. That's hard… That's impossible, but… I want them to trust me. That's all I can hope for.”

This time, Wallace accepted the silence when it came. His food came, and the wire sign was plucked without a word. Kip broke the silence, turning his head towards their server.

    “Can I get the house special coffee?” Kip pointed his thumb at Wallace. “It's on him.”

Wallace relaxed and stared down at his sandwich. His eyes widened as he reached down, taking one half between both hands.

    “This is huge!”

    “Percy's known for having the best sandwich in the area. Actually, even still, I'm surprised you found this place.” Kip took off his glasses to clean them.

    “Ben told me about it,” Wallace responded, turning the sandwich this way and that, eyeballing its size.

    “Of course. It doesn't advertise it, but it's mostly human friendly.”

    Wallace was about to take a bite when: “'Mostly?'”

    “Monsters are the top priority. I'm sure the other human accepting shops feel the same way. It's about security.”

    “Mmn, I understand that.”

Wallace finally took a bite of his sandwich, enjoying the satisfying crunch of lettuce between his teeth. His eyes fell closed with the bite, but once he started chewing, he stared straight ahead and saw Kip looking at him. The activist watched with an almost comical frown and slightly puffed cheeks.

    “You're too understanding! I don't get it.”

Wallace couldn't laugh – he'd choke. He couldn't smile – he had food in his mouth. He covered his mouth as he chewed, looking away and bobbing his head until he swallowed.

    “What else can I be? I could be scared all the time, or I could try to see things from your perspective. I feel I'd be really bad at my job if I didn't at least attempt the latter.”

Kip's coffee was set down to his right. They were left alone again soon after. Kip flicked up his hands and shrugged his shoulders.

    “I guess!” he conceded, taking his coffee between his hands.

Wallace took that as a good sign (and was a bit proud of himself). He gave them both an out by continuing to eat in silence. Kip flipped open his notepad, reading over his notes as he drank his coffee. After finishing half of his sandwich, Wallace knew he would want to eat the rest when he got home. So instead, he turned his attention to the frosted dessert that had been gifted to him earlier.

    “You know,” Kip started. Wallace stared at the other male across from him. “You're not… so bad.”

    “Thanks, Kip.”

    “It's always hard to tell what kind of person you really are when we're with Roy and Molly.”

    Wallace almost didn't want to ask but: “And what do you think now?”

    “I think your nervousness is almost contagious and that you're too nice.”

    “Ouch,” Wallace replied, laughing a bit. “At least dull the verbal knife.”

    Kip smiled against his cup before he set it down. “But you're not bad. I can see why Molly hangs out with you. Roy's a bit too social, I think.”

    “Is there such a thing?” Wallace laughed.

    “Oh! The stories I could tell.” Kip groaned and rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the booth.

    “I'd love to hear one!” Wallace carefully tore the dessert in half. It had a white cream center. Oooh. He offered half up to Kip. “Want so–?”

Wallace paused, seeing that Kip was staring at him. He looked flustered; his lips were slightly parted as if he wanted to say something.

    “Is everything alright, Kip?”

    “I don't like sweets,” the monster replied instead. His words rushed out in a single breath. He looked to the side, blue cheeks darkened a couple of shades as he sank down. “And I guess I can tell you a couple when we're heading back home.” He narrowed his eyes in Wallace's direction. “You're going back after this, right?”

    “Sure, I just have to, uh.” The human cut himself off and nodded, saving them both the explanation. “Yeah, I'm taking the bus.”

    “Good. The story I have in mind should take up that time.”

Wallace nodded and bit into his dessert. He would have to find a name for this. It was pretty good. The server came by, asking if everything was okay.

    “Check please,” Kip stated. He pointed to his empty mug. “And a coffee to go. I'm gonna need it.”

 


End file.
